Enough Of A Reason
by Jayneysuk
Summary: After his meeting with Violet, Richard does a little soul searching and goes to see Isobel. A post episode fic to episode 3:6 because there aren't any Isobel Richard scenes and the should be. A spoiler or two for 3:5.
1. Chapter 1

**Enough of a reason**

Isobel rose from her chair, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt as she waited for the housekeeper to show in her guest. It was late on a rainy afternoon and she had been catching up on correspondence when there had been a knock at the door. She had been surprised, although not unpleasantly so, when Ethel had announced that the doctor had come calling, which had quickly turned to nervousness as she heard his familiar footsteps making their way down the hallway. It was always like that when she saw him again for the first time after time apart, although it had only been a few weeks on this occasion, she still wondered if the feelings she had harboured over the years would subside or grow stronger during his absence from her life.

"Good afternoon, Dr Clarkson," Isobel said with a smile as he stepped through the door, his suit slightly damp from the rain. "This is a surprise."

"Good afternoon, Mrs Crawley. I'm sorry for calling on you at home but we never seem to get a chance to talk at the hospital." He had put off coming to see her for a week, reluctant he supposed to see her reaction to his news although he wasn't entirely sure whether he would be happier to see her saddened or troubled if she didn't care at all. Either way he needed to tell her and start thinking about what he was going to do next. He hovered in the doorway, allowing himself a moment to surreptitiously study her. She was, he mused, as always impeccably dressed, her hair perfectly styled, her hands nervously moving through the air even when her lips were barely moving, her smile beautiful. Even in his dreams this was how he imagined her, always smiling, because he hated to see her sad.

"Please, come in, and take a seat." She indicated the chair beside the fire. "You should dry off in no time at all. I'm sorry that we haven't had the chance to talk. Maybe if I had known it was important . . ." she trailed off, not really sure if it would have made a difference. At a time in her life when she should have been slowing down she seemed to be more involved than ever. The hospital, she had to admit, had taken a back seat as she spent more time in York, and now she was concentrating on helping Ethel adjust. As much as she missed working side by side with him, after the war things had never really returned to normal, and he no longer seemed to need her and it had been harder to justify being there just to be near him. "Ethel has gone to fetch us some tea and we have as long as you need."

Hesitantly he settled himself on the edge of the small armchair as she settled herself on the settee. "I'm not keeping you from dinner at the Abbey?"

Isobel shook her head a little wistfully. "Not tonight." There were times she missed the big family dinners and lively discussion, although recently there was a constant air of sadness around the table, but still dinner on a tray in her study held little appeal. "Please. You said there was something you needed to discuss."

"It really isn't that important but as Chairman of the hospital I thought it only proper that I told you in person." His voice sounded cold and clinical even to his own ears and he wondered if he had lost the ability to be anything but a doctor. He forced a smile as he confided, "I have to my chagrin written a short note to the Dowager Countess."

"I often find dropping a note to cousin Violet immensely more rewarding than a visit," Isobel admitted with a grin, knowing that he would appreciate the comment for what it was, a subtle encouragement. "So this is hospital business?"

He nodded, clasping his hands firmly together and resting them on his knees. "Although now that I am here I find myself struggling with the decision."

She furrowed her brow, suddenly concerned for him, leaning forward in the hope of imparting some comfort. "Well why don't you tell me what is on your mind and maybe we can discuss it and I can be of some help."

Richard took a deep breath, wishing it could be that easy. Once he told her, once she had interrogated him about the why, she could quite easily change his mind and that was what frightened him. He had already tossed aside his principles, and now she could easily make him completely disregard his scruples. "After almost twenty five years," he began, his eyes focusing on anything but her face.

The words hit her with such a force that she momentarily forgot to breath, a heaviness pressing down on her chest as the rest of the sentence formed unwillingly in her head. Instantly she knew what was coming, and what had been up until that point a pleasant Thursday afternoon was now tinged with sadness.

". . . here at Downton, at the hospital, I have decided that it is time I retire." His face lifted and he met her eyes, trying to read something in the dark chocolate pools. He hoped that he would see pain reflected back at him, some indication that his departure would sadden her but whatever he saw fleetingly was quickly masked.

"You want to leave the hospital?" she asked, the surprise in her tone masking the extent of the horror she felt. "I can't say I ever imagined you retiring." She rarely thought about getting old, had little time for worrying about what she couldn't change, but she supposed his presence had always been something she took for granted.

"In truth nor did I, Mrs Crawley, but it's time to face up to the reality. There are younger, more progressive doctors who would, I imagine, bring much more to the hospital than I ever could."

"I wouldn't use that argument when you inform cousin Robert. Progressive is not a word he likes to hear. That and reform, and change, and frankly anything that would mean usurping the status quo," she laughed. "And I'm not sure anyone could bring more to the patients than you have," she added sincerely, worried that she was dismissing his thoughts as easily as the family disregarded hers. He was well liked in the village and she knew from her own experience that there were many who were alive because of him.

He blushed slightly. "Unfortunately that's not true, but I thank you all the same for saying it."

Isobel fell silent, suddenly aware of the significance of his words. "I don't mean to pry but may I ask what are your plans? When would you be looking to leave?"

In truth he hadn't really thought that far ahead. The decision had been hard enough to make but he hoped he had time to figure out what exactly came next. "I will of course stay as long as I am needed, until a suitable replacement is found." He shifted in his chair, fully aware that she was completely focused on him, her eyes practically boring a path to his soul, her hands fidgeting in her lap as they frequently did when she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

That, Isobel mused, would not be long enough. It would take a month, probably two at most to hire another doctor and while the board could procrastinate, that would only buy her a little time. There were often weeks when they would go without seeing each other, but she knew that he was near by, that she could at any time call on him. His leaving would in effect bring a finality to something which had never really started in the first place and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "The board will appreciate that."

"As for what I'm going to do? I really don't know," Richard sighed happily. "Which should I suppose worry me considerably but leaves me filled with nervous anticipation."

Ethel knocked on the door and appeared with a tea tray, bobbing briefly as she placed the tray on the low table between them.

"Thank you, Ethel."

"Would you like me to pour, ma'am?" she asked, trying but not quite managing to blend into the background.

"I think we can manage just this once," Isobel said with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you have other things that require your attention." Once the maid had left she began to pour the brown murky liquid into two cups. "I apologise for the tea. We're still working on perfecting it. If you don't mind me saying this does seem somewhat of a sudden decision."

Richard glanced down at the carpet, suddenly fascinated by the soft swirls in fabric. It may seem like a sudden decision but something he had considered on and off for years. Recent events had persuaded him it was now or never. She, he had decided in a moment of weakness, could convince him to make it never.

"Doctor Clarkson? Richard?" she asked softly, drifting into a familiarity that they had almost shared over the years. "Please, you can tell me anything. The board does not have to know of your reasoning but I, as someone who has worked with you, as hopefully someone you count as a friend, would like to know what has prompted this now."

"I'm glad you consider me a friend," he said interrupting her flow, relieved that she didn't appear angry merely concerned.

"I do, very much." She stirred the pot as she tried to work out what it was that was bothering him. "I know you love your work and I know how committed you are to our little hospital. So it isn't that you are bored. Clearly something happened . . . Please tell me this isn't because of Sybil?" Isobel pleaded, realisation suddenly dawning, the spoon clattering onto the tray.

He continued to stare at the floor, avoiding her scrutiny as he felt the first wave of grief. Sybil had been a baby when he had arrived in Downton and he had watched her grow into a bright, spirited young woman, not unlike the woman sat opposite him. His inability to argue his ground, to persuade others that he was right had frustrated him, but it was nothing compared to the sadness he had felt when he had watched her die. The tears had fallen later while he was alone, work a sustaining force while he dealt with the myriad of emotions. He nodded. "Her death does have a bearing on my decision."

"But it wasn't your fault? My understanding is that there was nothing you could do." She wanted to reach over the table and clasp his hands, to remove his guilt, and the defeat that was evident in his posture. "Something tragic happened to a beautiful young woman. You couldn't have anticipated eclampsia and when the symptoms started to present themselves you spoke up for her. No one was to blame. My cousins I'm sure do not hold you responsible."

"That may be the case but I feel it's time to move on." How could he continue to work for a man that could so easily disregard his opinion, for a family that would always associate him with the death of their child.

"You won't be staying in the village!" It came out as more than a statement than a question and she couldn't help the way she let out a high pitched squeak. She was starting to adjust to the idea of him no longer being the village doctor, to the end of their working together but if he was to leave . . . The thought wasn't something she could dwell on.

"That is one thing I am certain of, yes," he admitted, although that particular decision had nothing to do with the young woman's death or the emotional blackmail that followed. "I may stay in Yorkshire, but I'm not entirely certain that would be for the best."

The best for who, she wondered, as he continued to stare at the floor. "Sugar?" She asked, concentrating on making tea rather than the sudden wave of nausea she was experiencing.

"No, thank you."

She slid a saucer towards him. "Please don't let that poor girls death rush you into making life altering decisions. She wouldn't have wanted you to give up because of what happened. I know Robert was hard on you but I know he respects you as a doctor. It's just when it's your child. . ."

"Do you know what I do of an evening?" He asked, raising his head abruptly.

Isobel cocked her head on one side and considered her answer. She knew he sometimes dined at the house, and she often wondered what he did on those other evenings, maybe worked late, maybe he had a girlfriend, maybe that was why he was leaving, but she had never really asked. Of course she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. "I assumed that there was a woman, that you were courting discretely." How she managed to keep her tone light she wasn't sure.

"If only," he sighed, catching himself before he focused on her a little too intently. There hadn't been a woman in a long time. In truth he didn't want a woman, well not just any woman and the only woman he could imagine spending the rest of his days with was a class above him and probably wouldn't entertain the idea anyhow. "Excuse me. I am, I'm afraid, a little bit too committed to my work. My evenings are frequently spent the same way as my days, at the hospital. There is, I'm sorry to disappoint you, no woman."

It didn't disappoint her in the least, in fact it came as a huge relief, not that it mattered as he was moving away and their relationship had never quite ventured into that ground. "Maybe, instead of retiring you could work less, maybe take up some sport, learn to relax? I'm sure the board could be persuaded to hire someone to cover your days off."

"Anyone would think you didn't want me to leave, Mrs Crawley," Richard commented, a small smile teasing at his lips, hope fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't," she replied, her own tone flat, revealing little of the conviction behind those words.

Richard swallowed hard, lifting his head to finally look at her properly. "I . . ." he faltered, not really sure what he was going to say.

Isobel bit her lip. "Maybe you could take some time to consider it further. Give it a few weeks and you may change your mind."

"Allow you a few weeks to change my mind, more like," he retorted, giving her a weak smile. In truth his conviction was already starting to wane at her words.

"If I can change your mind that quickly and that easily then maybe you aren't so sure of your decision yourself," she challenged, her eyes crinkling in amusement at his sudden guilty expression "Although I may be willing to have you over for dinner, for afternoon tea and lively debate as often as it takes."

"Isobel?" In the fading light of the afternoon their relationship had changed, and he briefly wondered if had always been like this and they had been to blind to notice, or whether his decision was forcing them both to re-evaluate.

"I really don't want you to leave," she said, leaving him under no allusions as to her feelings on the subject. Slowly she sipped her tea, watching him over the top of her cup.

Richard lifted the cup to his lips then changed his mind. "Would it be impolite of me to suggest then that I join you for dinner this evening, give us an opportunity to discuss it further?" he asked with a confidence he didn't feel.

"I was about to invite you myself." She rose to her feet and began to make her way towards the door. "I'll just let Ethel know to set an extra place at the table." Gently she rested a hand on his shoulder, "I don't know what has transpired, who has made you feel unworthy, what has been said to make you feel your services are no longer exceptional but you should know that you are valued, that I value you."

His fingers lightly covered hers. "Thank you."

"You should also know that if you decide you must leave that it's entirely possible that I may call on you and correspond with you at every available opportunity," she stated, the words said with certainty, her hand still resting on his shoulder, his fingers lightly massaging her knuckles.

"And you and your letters would be most welcome," he said, turning his head to look up at her, knowing as he did so that there would be no letters, that he couldn't bring himself to leave Downton if what he saw in her eyes was really true.

She nodded, a thin smile forming on her lips. "Of course I haven't given up on convincing you that your future lies here with . . . In Downton." She had been about to say with me which with forethought was completely inappropriate.

"And I look forward to your arguments."

"You never have before," she retorted, finally and reluctantly slipping her hand from his. "But maybe there is a first time for everything."

His fingers lingered on his shoulder, lightly brushing the fabric where her hand had been. He felt the absence as keenly as if it had been there forever. A smile formed on his lips, the grin widening as he considered her parting words. A first time for everything. He could hope. There would undoubtedly be lively discussion, she would knock his points down like dominos and he would probably end up staying in some capacity but he had hope of something more. That was enough of a reason to stay.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not entirely convinced I like what I've written but the story seemed to need a conclusion.

**Enough Of A Reason Part Two **

Isobel glanced up and down the street, a wry smile on her lips. "I didn't expect you to meet me here," she said, her tone laced with bemusement. "I thought that we had agreed to meet at The Copper Kettle."

"I thought it might be nice if we walked together." He in turn glanced up and down the street, his brow furrowing as he saw nothing amiss. "I didn't anticipate it would be a problem." They were friends, or at least that was the impression she had given him of late and it seemed only natural to meet her for lunch, although as they stood awkwardly scanning their surroundings he began to wonder if she was somewhat embarrassed by him.

"You do realise what I do here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Who I work with?"

"I do." He chanced a grin, happy in the knowledge that it was his reputation she was concerned with and not his presence. Although it hadn't occurred to him while he had been waiting, people had given him strange looks, and many of the women had scowled. The realisation as to why made him reconsider his rash decision to arrive early. He offered her his arm. "And it's very commendable."

Isobel arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Commendable, Richard? Your expression is saying something entirely different." She remained on the spot, ignoring his arm and fixing him with a glare.

He let out a deep, slightly irritated, sigh, before taking her arm and linking it through his as he did so. "Yes, Isobel, commendable. Worthy. Selfless. But for many reasons I rather wish you hadn't chosen this as your vocation." That seemed to surprise her into silence, at least for a few minutes and he managed to move them a few feet.

"You are quite safe waiting outside, you know," she offered as they fell into step. "The 'gentlemen' tend to stay well clear of the building. And there aren't that many women who want to be seen consorting with the girls I work with. So there is very little chance of you getting into any trouble. Of course you could have come in and met the girls and I could have shown you what I do here." The idea of him entering a room filled with former women of the night was one that brought a gentle roll of his eyes.

"That would be total inappropriate in my position." Although at some point the women really should have a nurse or doctor take a look at them, he mused. He wasn't about to volunteer.

"And what about when you no longer hold that position?" Although she tried to keep her question as casual as she could, she was still intrigued by what he might do in retirement. The idea of the two of them working on a project together was one that held great appeal but she was always conscious of the fact it would have to be something he considered appropriate.

His face flushed almost beetroot as he blustered beside her, his body pulling slightly away. "I have never, and would never contemplate using their services." Isobel laughed mildly.

"I wasn't suggesting that, Richard. I just wondered if when you retire you might drop by and take me to lunch occasionally."

They continued to walk, following the winding alleys towards the cathedral and the tea room that he frequented whenever he was visiting the hospital.

"Even if I don't retire I could take you to lunch."

Her smile widened at his words. "You're wavering."

Richard came to an abrupt halt and turned to look at her. He took a deep breath, pondering how honest to be, his tone turning serious. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Isobel. I thought I did, I thought it was for the best and now . . ."

"That's why we're having these lunches." Lightly she squeezed his arm, concerned suddenly by his change in mood. Whenever he talked about leaving there was a sadness in his eyes, his body almost slumping in defeat and she wished he would just admit how wrong the notion was for him, but he wouldn't and so they continued to have lunch and dinner. She couldn't bring herself to beg him to stay and she wouldn't tell him it was for the best that he went so instead they ate well and enjoyed each others company.

"Is it?" he asked, his tone lacking patience.

She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes barely concealing her concern. "If you really want to go, if you feel there is no other way, then you know I'll support you." The all too familiar pain in her chest caused a sharp intake of breath and she turned away.

"I know that, but that isn't what I meant." He contemplated telling her the truth, spelling out the intentions behind his question. Instead he continued walking, his eyes darting to look at her at intervals as he tried to reason with himself.

The tea room was small, tucked away in a side street, and thankfully not too busy. Once seated he ordered tea for both of them and an afternoon tea spread. For a while they talked about the hospital, her family and the upcoming cricket match. It was comfortable and easy going as they ate and enjoyed each others company. The moment didn't last.

"So are you going to tell me the reasons why I should have chosen another vocation?" Isobel asked casually, her fingers toying with the dainty cake on her plate as her eyes bore into him. The topic had been silently bothering her since he said it but she had chosen to wait, often finding patience brought better rewards.

"I didn't say you should chose another vocation. Only that there are reasons why I wish you hadn't chosen this one, especially now." He discreetly rolled his eyes, knowing that she wouldn't let him escape the inquiry, not that he hadn't expected her to raise the subject again. He had hoped however for time to prepare.

He had her intrigued and that meant there was no way she was going to let up until he told her the truth. Richard had been her strongest supporter since their success with his dropsy patient, always backing her choice in causes, helping when he could, his words as she left for France resounding in her ears whenever she debated the merit in her decision. If he was now questioning her then things between them were perhaps not as certain as she believed. "So why exactly should I have leaned towards a different vocation?" she asked pushing her plate away and cocking her head to one side, waiting him out.

"Let me see, the reasons why . . ." He took a breath, preparing for glibness but finding the intensity of her gaze somewhat off putting.

She leaned forward, her hands gently resting on the table.

"I worry about your safety; walking the streets in York late at night."

"I don't think I'll get mistaken for one of my girls," she laughed, clearly amused by the absurdity of the idea.

"That's not what I meant," he groaned, frustrated by her take on his concerns.

Isobel covered his hand lightly with her own, her way of apologising for not taking him seriously. "I don't do it often and I always have a driver to take me home."

"What if someone tries it on?" he asked awkwardly. "Tries to push their luck? Can you defend yourself?" As much as he admired her strength and determination, she was slim and delicate and he couldn't imagine her being able to fend off an attacker.

"It's never happened."

Richard had been a doctor long enough not to rely on the fact something had never happened, to assure it never would. "And I worry about your reputation," he stated firmly, glancing at their hands resting together on the table in full view of everyone and not caring.

"As a do-gooder?" She asked, feigning amusement.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "You're consorting with. . ." He lowered his voice. "Prostitutes. There is a former one, and I don't begrudge that you're trying to help her, living and working in your home. It opens you up to rumour and innuendo."

"Now you just sound like Cousin Violet. And I don't think I particularly like disapproving Richard," she chided. "This right now is where I'm needed. Anyway I thought you said there were many reasons." She tilted her head to study him. "We promised to be honest," she reminded him, exasperated by the regurgitation of everything she had heard from the family.

"You'll think me silly."

"Have I ever given you the impression I consider you silly? Have I ever shown you anything but the upmost respect?"

"No." Richard had the good graces to look chastised. "It's just we're getting into more personal territory."

Her hand squeezed his. "I think I'm ready for that," she acknowledged, hoping he wouldn't choose the moment to question her choice of phrase.

"I wish you hadn't decided to move your work to York, because it took you away from the hospital, and from me. It was alright when you helped out every few days. I had something to look forward to, then you stopped coming and I didn't know when I would see you." As he opened his mouth the words tumbled out and it was only as he paused to breathe that he realised what he had implied.

Her mouth gaped open at his admission. "You missed me?"

"Yes." He ducked his head, his cheeks pinking up.

"Then moving away makes no sense," she mused out loud, considering his position. "You could be in another county. You would only get letters, maybe a visit once in a while. You would never get to see me and surely you would miss me more . . . Oh my."

His head jerked up. "Isobel."

Her head was swimming, the realisation flooding her senses as she stared at him. "We pledged to be honest." She was a little afraid, she had to admit, of the intensity of her reaction to his words. Her feelings, so carefully concealed, were in danger of being reciprocated and she had no idea what that meant, but she needed to hear him say it.

"Sometimes honesty isn't the best policy," he replied, his mouth going dry.

"It isn't my arguments that have you wavering. It's me. You're leaving because . . ."

"Please," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her words.

"It wouldn't have been fair to ask you to stay because I didn't want you to leave," she stated, changing tact. "My feelings for you, they shouldn't impact on your decision." I love you, she had wanted to say, and I want you in my life, in what ever capacity I can have you but instead she had constantly discussed why leaving might benefit him, what staying might mean and now they were actually bringing feelings to the debate.

"My feelings for you do." He caught her gaze. "I'm sorry. I've tried to hide behind what is appropriate."

Silently she removed her hand from his. "Richard, after everything you're still worried about what is appropriate. You'd rather leave and be unhappy than risk telling me how you feel."

He reached for her hand, clasping it in his own. "I couldn't imagine circumstances where you might feel the same."

"Now you are being silly, you sweet man. I may be forward and forthright, and at times frustratingly outspoken but I do come from a generation where men are expected to declare their feelings first and make some attempt at courting before a lady reciprocates."

Richard laughed awkwardly. "I invited you to lunch, I'm holding your hand, and I've admitted that you are the reason I decided to leave, does that constitute declaring my feelings and attempting to court you."

Isobel quirked her lips up into a smile. "It does. I don't want you to leave, Richard. But I want you to be happy, and if that means you need to be somewhere else, then how can I stand in your way?"

He shook his head, as his fingertips tenderly stroke the back of her hand. "I don't think I can be happy anywhere else, but I don't want to work for the Crawleys anymore, and I thought being anywhere but here with you would allow me to get over you so to speak."

"So you do want to be with me?" she asked happily.

"Very much."

Her smile widened. "And you're not ready to retire."

At the shake of his head, she pursed her lips and considered his options. "In all likelihood you could get a position at the hospital here in York."

"It's a possibility," he confirmed, knowing that one simple phone call would get him an interview.

"And we could have lunch and dinner."

"That we could," he agreed with a wide smile, amused by her enthusiasm. "But I would still be expected to do long shifts, night shifts, maybe even work through Christmas."

Lightly, she placed her free hand over their joined ones. "So we'd resort to late suppers, early breakfasts and we can celebrate Christmas together any time." It didn't occur to her that only moments ago she was trying to convince her closest friend to stay in Yorkshire and now she was planning their relationship. "That's if you want to. If in declaring your feelings you are asking if we might embark on a courtship," she said, her tone less assured than it had been moments before.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he gently kissed her knuckles. "I would be honoured, Isobel. Although first I need to secure a position and somewhere to live. That does not mean that I don't want to see you in the meantime but to stay I need to ensure an income and a home, at least for a few months."

"And at the end of the few months?" She hoped she had read his implication correctly but she wanted to hear him say it.

Richard beckoned the waitress over, suddenly aware of the time. "I'm hoping by then we might be in a position to discuss marriage and finding a home for both of us."

"A few months?"

"However long it takes, my darling," he said, a small vee forming in his brow as he wondered if he was being too presumptuous. " A few months, a year. I have waited eight years I'm sure I can wait a little longer. Not too long though."

Isobel shook her head. "Long enough for me to back out of some of my commitments, to hand over the reigns and prepare to be a doctors wife."

Richard placed a handful of notes beside the receipt and rose to his feet, his hand never leaving hers. "I would never ask you to do that."

"I know. And I don't want to let anyone down." She waited as he opened the door to the tea shop and allowed her to exit before him. "But I thought I had lost you. I've lain awake at night wondering how I can convince you to stay, how quite frankly I could get cousin Violet to convince you not to go. We have a second chance and I won't let anything spoil that." She linked her arm through his, falling easily into step with him.

"Will being my wife be enough for you?"

"If being my husband is enough of a reason for you to stay then being your wife is enough, more than enough, my darling man." Isobel stopped walking, waiting a second for him to turn and look down at her.

"Isobel?"

Silently she reached up on tip toe and kissed him lightly on the cheek, her fingers cupping his chin as she smiled at him.

"What was that for?"

"Because," she offered with a grin, running her fingers lightly over her arm. "Sometimes you don't need a reason for doing something. Its just because." Quickly, leaving him no time to comment, she released his arm and moved away. "And now to save your blushes I'm going to make my own way back."

As he opened his mouth to argue she closed the gap between them, kissing him a second time, before walking away, a new sway in her hips.

Richard watched her go, a grin creeping over his face, knowing with certainty that leaving would never have made him happy, but the promise in a simple kiss always would.


End file.
